


we won't stop now until we've reached the sun

by ozymandiasinvelvet



Category: it-movie 2017
Genre: Asshole parents, Beverly Marsh- the mom friend, Explicit Language, F/M, First Kiss, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking, awkward teenagers, coming of age but sans child eating monster, it's pretty gay, no it- because fuck that, racy humor, stanley uris-sass queen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-18 07:31:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12383682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozymandiasinvelvet/pseuds/ozymandiasinvelvet
Summary: Derry, Maine - 1989Also known as the summer when everyone went to Camp Greenmore and got WAY more than they bargained for.





	1. Count Chocula, our Lord and Savior.

It was early in the cozy town of Derry, the only thing audible besides the occasional bird was the snoring of the one and only, Richie Tozier.

Face down into his pillow and drool collected in a small pool to the left of him, he enjoyed the last bits of summer vacation left to him. His mom decided that she was sick of him around the house working on his impressions and is sending him off to some "weirdo-kumbaya-let's-talk-about-our-feelings" summer camp. His dad wasn't around anymore after his mom finally drove him crazy and he realised he'd be much happier across the country with his barely legal dental assistant, Caroline. Fine, he didn't need him anyways and he hated the fact that he thought sending him a postcard every so often would make Richie resent him less. He didn't need s'mores and a shrink disguised as a councillor, he just needed his comics and cassettes (and maybe the occasional cig.)

The only saving grace of this dumpster fire of a summer was the fact this torture only lasted a month and then he could go back to watching shitty horror movies at the Aladdin. He didn't need to make friends and he could be mouthy if he wanted to be. He wasn't always a pain but he thought he deserved a bit of slack after being left with his alcoholic mother who didn't give a damn whether or not he came back home. 

He ate a mouthful of Count Chocula and his mother shoved a slightly stained paper in his direction. Now he knew the name of this outdoorsy hell. 

Camp Greenmore. 

What a hoot. 

After "breakfast", he forced his shit into an ugly beige backpack according to the list and remembered to bring at least six chocolate bars with him. He had to remind himself that no, not those pants, they had a gaping hole in the crotch of them and unless he wanted to completely embarrass himself the first day, he'd better bring the shorts. Or maybe he would bring them and make a lasting impression. Lest he forget the slightly crushed box of cigarettes & lighter in the hole in his mattress. Super.

His mom looked like hell and probably felt like it too so he thought it best to keep his trap shut no matter how much he wanted to tell her that she left a roller in the back of her hair. The drive was long and he thought about how maybe, just maybe this could be a release from his constant boredom. Once they seemed like they were well into the middle of bumfuck nowhere, a sign appeared for Camp Greenmore. 

"Richie, I know this will be hard for you, but can you please be on your best behavior?" Richie's mom moaned at him, rubbing off a incredible headache.

"Scouts honor." He said with the most stern face he could make.

"Yeah, well here we are. I gotta get going sport, don't get mauled by a bear, alright. God knows that'd be hell on the insurance." She said half jokingly.

He got out without saying a single word and with a sour expression on his face.


	2. Camp Peenmore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet part of the Loser's gang.

Richie honestly didn't know what to expect from the camp. The last time he'd been in the great outdoors was with his dad when he was eight and it resulted in them running away from a mama bear after Richie tried to pet it's cub. It's safe to say that he's covered in more scars than he is skin on his legs. 

He was a bit lost especially because his mom accidentally took the map (or did she?) with her and it casually mentioned HOW to get into the camp. He fought the urge to kick himself. 

Well, fuck him sideways.

After sitting around for a good half hour, a car the color of burnt toast pulled up to the same sign that cheerfully read, "Camp Greenmore, Making Memories!" except the "Gr" had fell off what looked like ages ago and in it's place, a "P" was graffitied in bright green spray paint along with a crudely drawn dick.

Camp Peenmore. 

He let himself laugh at that before he turned his head to examine the people exiting the car. A girl with nearly orange short hair which he could only really describe as the color of Fanta and a boy with a glowing smile. He seemed friendly enough to ask how the hell to get to Camp Peenmore, his friend too he guessed. As he got up off of the splintery log he was lounging on and made his way over awkwardly.

"Hiya, I'm Richie, I like long walks on the beach and I'm also really fuckin' lost." He exclaimed with nervous energy sparking in his stomach.

The boy and girl looked over at him, surprised at the sudden ruckus, the girl chortled.

"Beverly, but call me Bev. Makes me feel less like a spinster librarian." Bev said, grinning.

The kid at her side smiled and added, "I'm Mike, it's nice to meet you Richie." He offers his hand to Richie to shake it, which he does.

The boy shakes his hand exactly how he thought he would, firm and with a sense of finality. He's a man's man, a good head on his shoulder.

"Well, nooow that we're acquainted, good people, might you point meh in the direction of the campground? I sorta lost mi map..." He spoke with a shitty English accent, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Why don't we walk with you, just give us a sec to get our stuff and we'll get going." Mike suggested sincerely.

"Yeah! Plus, you're fresh meat." Bev smirked.

"I guess I am pretty rare. Hey, do you guys need help with carrying anything?" Richie asked, trying to stay on the level of decency as Mike was.

The corners of Beverly's lips rose slightly and she walked back to the trunk of the hatchback the color of baby shit. It wasn't a bad car, just really unfortunately painted he supposed. Mike helped her with some of the heavier looking materials and Richie suddenly felt unprepared with his seemingly small tan backpack. He thought there'd be cabins? Leave it to his mom to remember the important things, huh? What looked like guitar case peeked out behind Beverly's back and at least five other bags.

"Ready?" Mike asked, watching Richie struggle with three of the said, lumpy bags on his back. He looked more like Quasimodo and less like a 15 year old boy, he thought grumpily to himself.

"I was born ready." Richie bluffed as his back began to complain. It was definitely a lie because shit, what did Mike keep in here anyways?? 10 tons of rocks??

"Well you better be because it is a 17 mile walk to the camp and it's almost lunch." Bev said half mocking, half concerned.

"You're shitting me, right?" Richie gasped and his face fell.

"She's joking. It's about a mile away but we better get going because Mrs. Well's makes the best lasagna on this side of the Appalachian." Mike announced.

You'd think being this high up there'd be less bugs, but boy was he wrong. It was almost as if a moving wall of little asshole demons were flying in his face and his glasses were covered in guts. Fantastic. 

"How are you not getting attacked by the legions of bloodsucking asswipes? I can hardly open my mouth without getting more protein than I ever intended?" He complained miserably. 

"The magic of bug spray, Richie. Also, I've never heard anyone call three mosquitos bloodsucking asswipes but it's definitely something I won't forget." Beverly gabbed.

"Hardy-har. Maybe what they say about gingers being evil is true and they won't attack their dark master." Richie quipped.

Beverly rolled her eyes at Richie who looked like he was doing a really intense version of the Macarena attempting to get rid of the pests. 

"Maybe they prey on the weak." joked Mike.

"You wound me, Mikey boy." Richie sighed dramatically, a bug bitten hand over his heart.

"We're almost there, I'm pretty sure Eddie'll have some cortisone you can borrow." Beverly mentioned, giving him a sympathetic look.

They walked for about 10 more minutes and they arrived to a big, wooden building that read, "Administration" in a garish yellow color.

"Do you want us to-" Mike started, but Richie cut him off.

"No, I got it from here, now go set up and do some nature ritual or something." Richie assured.

Funny enough, as he entered the room, he found himself missing the company of his new acquaintances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm going to try writing longer chapters because why not?


	3. Harry, Hank, Harvey.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie meets his first asswipe at Camp Greemore.

Well. He wasn't going to pretend that wasn't the most awkward 15 minutes of his life.

The woman who worked behind the desk had almost white hair and already looked done with his shit as soon as he strolled in. He only made it worse by accidentally insulting her by calling her a ray of sunshine and tripping over himself (damn his long legs). After the lady apathetically gave him his papers and a steel flashlight she called for someone to show him around. He was really hoping that Mike would show him around or at least a friendly face but instead he got the world's biggest asshole. Who even thought mullets were a good fashion choice??? So there they are and the kid keeps looking at him like he's some kind of science experiment gone wrong and he's about to tell him that he should take a photo cause they last longer when the dude turns to look at him.

"Here's your cabin, loser, I guess you'll feel right at home with the rest of them." Harry (It starts with an "H" right?) sneered at him.

"Doesn't matter as long as I'm far away from your ogre breath, do you kiss your mom with that mouth? Cause if so, she should be entitled to financial compensation." He spilled out like word vomit.

"You better stay the fuck away from me these few weeks or I'll beat you senseless, four eyes. I swear I will. You're gonna learn to be afraid of me, freakazoid." Hank (WHY COULDN'T HE REMEMBER HIS NAME????) snarled back at him.

Richie stepped up forward to the other boy who was blushing from fury and embarassment. He knew he had to shut the fuck up, but like his favorite pair of blue jeans, his mouth gave out from trying to hold the contents in. 

"Yeah, yeah, you big, strong, manly man. You better stay away or I might just kiss you! You're so sexy with that greasy mop of a hairdo and the whole dumbass redneck appeal makes me soooooooo hot!!!!" Richie squealed at him, giving his best impression of a vapid housewife. At this point Harvey (he didn't even care enough anymore to remember his name) looked more bull than he did human. He clenched his teeth and his fists as a last warning and-

"I love when you blush like that!" He mocked.

That was the last thing Richie Tozier remembered before he hit the ground after a particularly hard right hook to his cheekbone.

When we woke up after what felt like a coma, he felt the throbbing immediately. 

"Fuuuuuuck. Why am I like this?" Richie moaned at himself in agony.

"I'd ask you that question but it seems like you don't even know the answer yourself." The plump woman in a green shirt spoke.

"Who are you? I literally just got here." he announced sheepishly.

"I'm Mrs. Wells, I'm the nurse here and occasionally I cook." She answered straight to the point and added, "And you must be Richard Tozier."

Richie cringed a little at hearing his full name, only hearing it when his parents yelled at him. Also, he hated that a nickname for his name was Dick, as if that didn't make things anymore obvious.

"Should I call you something else?" The nurse asserted, assessing him correctly.

"Yeah you can call me anytime." Richie said in a slurred tone. Fuck, that kid had a good hook.

"Thanks, but I prefer men, not boys. I'm just gonna call you Richie. Richie, you feeling nauseaous, foggy, or dizzy?" She asked with concern clear in her voice.

"Where am I?" Richie asked suddenly, not recognizing why he isn't curled up in bed, reading comics under his sheets.

"Okay. Richie, I'm gonna move your neck lightly to check for any internal damage. I'm sure you have a concussion." Mrs. Wells stated, eyes tracing the bruise that must be forming on the side of his head. 

"Sure, just be quick, I think if I try to move my head too much, I'll upchuck Exorcist-style." He complained.

"Will do." She answered and began to prod at his neck.

After a few more seconds, she let out a sigh of relief. 

"Well, your neck isn't sprained or snapped, so that's a plus, but you're gonna have to stay out of camp activities for a week at least. If I see you going against my orders, you will not get any of my lasagna during your stay here." She told him, with a tone of finality and gravity.

Richie gulped.

"Yes, ma'am." He responded weakly.

"Now, I have to call your mother about the incident so she's aware of what happened today. I also have to go out on an 'exploration' with the girls in cabin 3 for three days so my unofficial assistant, Eddie will be keeping an eye on you to make sure you don't end up splitting your head open. He's a good kid, though so you two should get along." Wells explained and went to the phone.

She ended up calling five times and still nothing from the Tozier residence. He didn't expect much from his Ma anyways. Mrs. Wells looked exasperated and murmured to herself, "What kid of mom doesn't pick up the phone after five consecutive phone calls?" 

Richie snorted.

"Well, I guess I should call Eddie over so you two can get aquainted." Wells commented, resigned.


	4. When Richie met Eddie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Richie met Eddie.

He found himself looking up at the waterstained ceiling of the smallish, off-white room.

Mrs. Wells had left the room in search of this mysterious Eddie and hadn't been back for like 15 minutes. In all honestly, he was incredibly bored and his undiagnosed ADHD was seriously starting to act up as Bohemian Rhapsody was BLARING in his head. He couldn't stand being with his own thoughts sometimes because they bounced around so randomly and quickly that he couldn't keep with them. He supposed that's why everyone thought he was so annoying, plus he lacked a filter.

Obviously, wincing at the contusion on the side of his curly head.

This is what leads to Eddie finding Richie passionately singing (more like yodelling) to "Somebody to Love" with a classroom skeleton. At first, Richie doesn't even notice Mrs. Wells and Eddie, who are standing at the door frame, witholding gut busting laughter. As he gets to the last chorus, the short kid cannot handle it anymore after Richie starts crooning to the skeleton and the arms fall off of the vintage model they named Larry.

He swears in that moment he reinacted the chick's scream from Psycho, jumping a foot up in the air.

"Jesus FUCKIN'- WARN A GUY NEXT TIME!" Richie shrieked in terror, his heart thumping in his chest like a wild animal in a cage.

"I should have let you get to 'Another One Bites the Dust', you're right, I'm sorry to have scared you." The kid chuckled, "I'm Eddie Kaspbrak."

"Richie Tozier, the guy who's been screwing your mom." Richie bit at him. Eddie looked shocked and offended, narrowing his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something but Mrs. Wells cut him off.

"WHOA! Language, Mr. Tozier, or I'll have to write you up." Mrs. Wells warned with alarm.

"Yeah, what she said." muttered Eddie crossly.

Richie, who now felt the effects of standing up so quickly, went to lie down in hopes the nausea would fuck off. Eddie's expression went from indignant to actually worried as he went to check on Richie. His bright yellow -almost neon- shirt made his eyes burn and honestly he just wanted to wait until this headache died down a little. ADHD and a concussion, he hadn't heard of a greater pair since Lester Bangs and NyQuil. 

"I know you're trying to help me kid, but that shirt's making my eyes bleed." mentioned Richie who was squinting...fuck. His glasses. They must have fallen off while he was dancing or something. Well shit. Now he's blind and has a killer headache. He swears, it's like someone's playing the bagpipes while playing Whack-A-Mole on his forehead.

"I'll change I guess? Mrs. Wells can you watch Eddie while I go back to my cabin really quick?" asked Eddie with a determined look in his eyes and added, "Hey I think you dropped these earlier."

Eddie placed the glasses on the bedside table where Richie snatched them up and put them on his face.

"I guess I can endure him for a while longer, so long as he doesn't start wailing Queen again." Mrs. Wells joked.

"Shhhhhh...!" Richie groaned at them.

Eddie and Mrs. Wells looked at eachother and she nodded at him. The brunet scurried off, fanny pack hitting his thigh. Who even wears fanny packs?? He decided to keep it to himself because the kid was helping him out, especially after he insulted him earlier. The kid was kinda cute though, in the boy scout-y way, being always prepared and he was incredibly short too. He sorta thought that some 7th grader wandered in when he first saw him. He made a face at the door handle, opened it, and then he reached for a mini hand sanitizer and scrubbing hard at his hands.

Wow. Okay, Richie's the kinda guy who calls 5 second rule on something that's been on the ground for like a minute. He felt like a filthy animal compared to that kid.

It was blissfully quiet for about 10 seconds when Mrs. Wells decided to wash her hands with turbo jets and take out EVERY pill bottle in her cabinets and put them in a cup.

Richie made a hateful glare at her before he asked her, "Why did you decide to rearrange every single prescription bottle right now?" 

"Eddie has to take his medicine at 9 o'clock, I was going to call him over when you woke up." she remarked softly, remembering Richie's headache.

"His medicine? Don't you mean a pharmacy?? Jesus." Richie responded stunned.

"Yeah, it's quite a lot but it's only a formality I have to administer them. Otherwise I'd leave you alone and let Eddie take them himself. Very responsible that one." commented Mrs. Wells after closing the final prescription bottle. "And for you, some ibuprofen to take the edge off of that monster headache." 

She walked over with a pill on her gloved hands and a plastic cup of water. He gave her a look that said, "you-are-the-best-I-owe-you-big-time" which she nodded at.

After he swallowed the pill, he waited around, looking at the clock when the door opened at 8:58 PM. Damn, this kid was punctual too. 

"Hey Mrs. Wells, thanks for getting everything set up. You can go to bed now, I got it." Eddie spoke with kindness. 

Now that he mentioned it, she did look kind of worn out. Her blue eyes looked a bit hazy with exhaustion and he felt bad for making her take care of him. His mom was always calling him a handful and made him feel bad for being sick. He knew it was completely unreasonable to feel that way because he knew he didn't do anything wrong but he still felt guilty. His mom was on the verge of being fired all the time, but he knows her saving grace is that she has Richie to take care of so her boss can never bring himself to can her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Wells." Richie said sheepishly.

"You're welcome. Just don't mess with that Henry kid anymore. He's the son of the security guard here, so he's got some influence here." warned Mrs. Wells before starting again, "I'm going to go back to my room, all your nightime pills are on the counter over there, Eddie. I trust you to keep a good eye on Mr. Tozier and to escort him back to his cabin."

"Yes ma'am." assured Eddie.

The bigboned, kindly woman waved and then walked out of the room leaving Eddie and Richie alone. God, he could cut the tension in the room with a knife. Eddie made his way over to the metal sink and washed his delicate hands. Now that Richie wasn't in horrible pain, just sorta groggy, he really looked at the boy. He had wavy, russet hair styled into a short cut with warm brown eyes. He was...pretty, with a cute button nose and soft, freckly skin. After he downed the vast amount of pills he looked at Richie, not really knowing what to say.

"Well. Did you bring a flashlight? We have to get going and I'd rather not accidentally find Bigfoot." Richie joked, trying to make it less awkward.

"Yes, hopefully tonight will be Bigfoot-free." Eddie smiled at him.

Fuck. He was cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey, this is a longer chapter for ya'll.


	5. Goddamn Fuckin' Superman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet the rest of the gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so this is in eddie's pov buckaroos, but this also is going to be a trigger warning for anyone with anxiety because stuff happens in the chapter so if you want to skip that part, go from the first line of stars to the next. 
> 
> -Lots of love

"Have you seen any monsters yet, Shaggy?" asked Richie who was amused by Eddie looking around every bend and tree. He gave the lanky boy a ferocious look and said, 

"If I'm Shaggy then you're Scrappy Doo because you never shut up and you're annoying." 

"You know who else never shuts up? Your mom during pillowtal- OW!" Richie exclaimed when Eddie smacked him with the flashlight on his forearm, careful not to hit his head or neck.

"Now, now Eds, violence is never the answer." Richie proclaimed diplomatically, doing his best 40's Hollywood voice. It sounded more like if Marlon Brando went on a bender and was forced to do an interview the next day after vomiting his guts out. 

"It is when you're talking about my mom like that, also can you do me the favor of never, ever calling me that again. Much appreciated." 

Richie was quiet for a while and Eddie felt kinda smug that he got the other boy speechless. All of a sudden, he tripped right over a long while basking in his glory he squawked in surprise as he was aquainted with the ground.

"Do you need help Eddie Spaghetti?" strained Richie, holding back his laughter.

Eddie groaned. Richie helped him off the ground and he cringed thinking how much bacteria he just got on himself. He couldn't shower until Wednesday and it was Monday. Baby wipe bath tonight it is then. Super. He could feel his knee bleeding, but as he felt around his waist he realized couldn't find his favorite fanny pack. WHERE WAS IT? It had his back up pills, his inhaler, his rubbing alcohol he couldn't lose it. What if Mrs. Wells loses his his pills or his prescription runs out here-what if it got so infected they had to cut his leg off- oh god, that means he'd be stuck with his mom. He could NOT be stuck with his mom.   
************************  
"Hey are you okay? You're kind of hyperventiating..." Richie cautiously, taking in the sight of the boy who was searching the ground furiously.

"OBVIOUSLY NOT! I CAN'T FIND IT!" yelled Eddie who was actively having a panic attack.

"Okay, Eddie, try to breathe okay? Okay, just breathe in and out with me alright? In....and....out, in...and...out." tried Richie, hoping to calm him down but all he could think about was his fanny pack and how much he NEEDED it and it was gone, where did it GO? 

"My-" he breathed out with his hair in his hands, rocking himself, "fanny pack...I-I'm so clumsy oh god...I can't breathe- RICHIE I CAN'T BREATHE! HELP- ME!"

At this point Richie was looking under every leaf and pebble but to no avail. It almost seemed like it disappeared into the blackness around them. 

"Okay, Eddie! Look at me! Do you have an extra inhaler or fanny pack?" Richie tried to soothe, holding his face between his hands but his lungs hurt so bad he couldn't focus.

"In-cabin. 3. Richie- don't-" He gasped, pain seizing him, "leave me."

Without another second to waste, Richie picked him up bridal style and began to sprint with everything he had towards the lights in the distance. He'd had panic attacks that lead to asthma attacks but nothing like this. He was so frightened and he knew that he had to get his inhaler quickly or else he'd be have to be airlifted out of here. His chest was so tight and painful that even touching Richie was making him groan in agony.

The door bust open, Richie's chest heaved from sprinting, he could feel him sweating bullets and he could hear Bill yell something at Eddie. He quickly turned to shout at Richie, pointing to his bedside table. His extra inhaler was in the first drawer, thank god. As soon as he knew it, relief came in the form of air being pushed into his lungs and as soon as he could get over the throb in his lungs he opened his eyes. Five terrified faces surrounded him watching him and he realized that Stan was combing his hand through his sticky hair, Bill was holding the red inhaler in his hands, tears forming in his eyes. Ben and Beverly were sobbing, now more from relief but from the redness of their faces he could tell they here hysterical. He really scared his friends didn't he?   
************************  
"Don't ever, EVER do that to us again" whimpered Mike, using a spare handkerchief to dab at his eyes, leaning over to mop up the sweat from his brow. 

"W-w-we were so w-worried, y-wou were s-so r-red and you k-kept making t-this aw-awful n-noise." Bill whispered gravely, looking years away.

"What happened? You went out and then when you came back you were seconds from-" Ben looked away, a tear fighting to be released from his eye, "And some weird kid brought you back?"

"I-"Eddie remembered Richie, "Where is he? Where did Bev go?"

"H-he went o-outside t-t-to puke, B-Bev went t-to h-h-hold his h-hair back." Bill told him in a calming manner.

"He's puking? Oh god, the dumbass has a concussion from getting slugged by Bowers earlier, I gotta-" Eddie tried to say, his voice hoarse from the air being forced from his lungs. 

"No, what you have to do is lay down, Kaspbrak. No way in hell I'm letting you go anywhere." Mike sternly commanded.

"I gotta. Mrs. Wells left me to take care of him..." he rasped.

He guessed he didn't have to when a dazed looking Richie stepped in, skin looking angry with all the veins sticking out... holy shit. Richie ran like hell with Eddie in his arms for 2 miles and then some with a serious headache. He wasn't sure if he was looking at Richie or goddamn fuckin' Superman.

"Adrenaline is one hell of a drug." Richie muttered with pain, gritting through his teeth.

"You saved my life tonight I don't-I don't know how to say thank you for that-" Eddie started but Beverly finished, "Thank you so much kid. I owe you big time and tell me if you need anything, anything. I mean it."

"Ditto." Stan promised, giving Richie a look that could only really be described as "I-am-so-grateful-I-have-no-words-to-express-just-how-indebted-I-am."

"T-thank you, k-kid. Y-you're w-w-welcome to h-hang out w-with us." Bill swore, looking directly into Richie's eyes which made him flush a bit.

"Yeah, what they said but shit, if Bowers comes after you again, I'll personally give him a wedgie." vowed Mike.

"Eddie's one of my best friends and you literally carried him on your back here, I cannot even begin to explain how thankful I am to you." Ben said, more recollected but still emotional around the edges.

Richie looked awkward and didn't really know what to say to the kids surrounding him. Plus his head was killing him now.

"Do you want some aspirin, Richie?" Eddie said, looking almost normal again, still a little colorless around the edges, looking for something to say to break the silence.

"Fuck yeah, I would love some aspirin now."


	6. whitman and forests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which we see richie attempt arts and crafts + forest boyzzzz

"I swear to fucking GOD Richie if you're making another dick out of macaroni." Stan eyed with a commanding glare.

"Guilty!" He says with a cheeky smile that was 100% Richie. Eddie had noticed that his eyes crinkled around the edges and only one lip curved up. It took him a while to realize that he had been staring at Richie's face and drawing his likeness. Blushing with the same vibrancy as a tomato, even as he remained a sickly greyish tone after nearly dying last night. That morning, Richie had taken him to the Mrs. Wells office to make sure everything was alright and so Eddie could take his morning cocktail of pills. He was so attentive to what Mrs. Wells asked if Richie was watching Eddie instead of the other way around. Eddie had listened to every word he said because he couldn't help his small crush on him, primarily because of the whole ordeal last night. He felt even worse because he knew his mom would scream at him if she heard the sinful words in his mind.

"What's on your mind, Eddie?" asked Beverly, who had long given up on what looked like a bird...maybe? Beverly had never been the best artist, but her charm certainly made up for her faults. He didn't have a crush on her like Ben or Bill, but he was always interested in what she had to say.

"I-uh...nothing? I'm trying to figure out what to draw but I'm as dry as the sahara today it seems." responded Eddie, chewing on his lip.

"Nothing? So that's what you've been doing, scribbling furiously the whole time?" She rose an eyebrow and sneezed. There was way too much light right now, seeing as the sun had just begun to rise above the trees. 

"Can we just leave it, Bev? Besides, I think Rorschach would be very proud of your drawing." spit Eddie. Beverly's eyes shot up, looking upset at Eddie but hiding it quickly as Ben came over to sit with them on the fallen, mossy log. Eddie had put a special tarp underneath him so he would be free of any would be creepy crawlers or diseases. It was a miracle his mom let him go out here each summer but he would beg and moan for months until she didn't have the will to tell him he couldn't. His side of the deal was that he'd stay inside with Mrs. Wells and whenever possible, but he couldn't care any less.

"-Eddie what do you think about Whitman?" Ben asked with fluffy hair around his round face.

"Can't say I've read much of his, Ben. I don't know." Eddie said distractedly as a lanky boy came to sit next to them.

"Oh, I fuckin' love Whitman!" Richie exclaimed with excitement clear in his eyes.

"Bullshit." snapped Eddie.

"Jesus, Eds did you forget your Midol this morning? Unlikely since you probably clear out the pharmacy." joked Richie, than began again " 'Sides, I really liked Leaves of Grass. Nor any more youth or age than there is now, and will never be any more perfection than there is now."

Richie and Ben immediately began chatting with fire in their eyes, Ben excited to meet someone else who loved Whitman as much as he did. 

Eddie just looked even more upset and got up. He walked (stomped) over to Stan who was sporting a pair of army green binoculars. He was only really excited for camp for two reasons, Birdwatching and getting away from his overbearing dad (although he'd admit that he also missed his friends dearly.) He was watching a blue little thing that flitted through the woods, gripping the handles with excitement. That was the only real give away besides the tension in his back. He sat next to him as quietly as possible, peering down at the book in the curly headed boy's lap. Stan pointed an elegant finger at the middle of the page.

He read, "Blue-grey gnatsnatcher, an incredibly small songbird that lives in the Northern and Southeastern America, also found in Central America." He felt as small as that bird in that second, so easy to break. He was being snappy because he hated when people just thought he was weak and defenseless, he hated being vulnerable because as soon as he showed any, the Bowers gang or whoever the fuck else would snap him in half. Or even worse, his mother would shove his illnesses down his throat and coddle him. So of course he thought it was better to stay unemotional than to cry or even worse have an asthma attack in front of everyone. He was really embarrassed and he knew it was silly, that it didn't make sense but it still really bothered him. Beverly would say something along the lines of, "Men can cry and still be masculine, Eddie. Crying isn't a sign of weakness, it's just letting strong emotions out." but he didn't want to hear it. His head was so jumbled and discombobulated that he forgot the tarp on the log and only when the cold, wetness of the ground bled through his clothes he had emerged from his thoughts.

"Fuck!" he yelped.

Stan looked over at him with the hatred of a thousand blazing suns. The bird had flown away from the sudden noise of his outburst. Wendy, their councelor turning her head to give him a look that clearly stated, "listen-kid-I-don't-work-24-hours-a-day-for-shitheads-like-you-to-yell-at-8-AM." He quickly shut his mouth and tried to sit back down in his spot before, Bev looking at him with concern etched on her face. Bev tended to look much older than she was, her shoulders folded in and tired eyes peering from her hair. He thought that she hid it pretty well, or at least tried to, but she still seemed faraway. 

"Bev, I'm sorry for being a jerk earlier, it's just I'm really bad with expressing my feelings sometimes." explained Eddie with regret painting his facial expression.

"It's no biggie, Eddie. You can sit next to me, I was just listening to Richie and Ben read some poetry. Ben's reading some good ones." Bev explained softly. She seemed to be taking in the surroundings, allowing herself to relax in their presense. Watching Ben out of the corner of her eye, hanging on to every single word.

Mike and Bill joined them later, joining them quietly as Ben kept reading with a voice that was as smooth as leather and flowed like water in a river. It was peaceful, Wendy had fallen asleep against a tree, luckly it was only their cabin she had to look after and they could certainly watch themselves. They looked upwards to the sky, trees rimming the edges of the clearing like eyelashes.

They must have spent hours there because Richie had felt himself start to fall asleep and have probably the best nap of his life. Eddie's head on his chest because he only wanted a pillow and nothing more because it would have been wrong. Richie didn't mind, he just wanted to listen to the birds overhead. 

He wished things would stay the way they were, perfect like in that moment.

But they never do.

Not for Eddie Kaspbrak.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, it is I, your author. I'm still not sure what to write here.


End file.
